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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26076400">Her Knight in Shining Armor.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ggigirichards/pseuds/raabbitfaace'>raabbitfaace (ggigirichards)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Rabbit's Gotham Universe (RGU) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gotham (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Everything Will Be Explained, Gen, Gotham City - Freeform, Gotham Girl Gang, Original Character(s), POV Original Character, Protective Victor Zsasz, Victor Zsasz said hold up ..., assassin dad, dad Zsasz, hes a sweetie !, let me adopt a kid and train her</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:22:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,313</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26076400</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ggigirichards/pseuds/raabbitfaace</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>His eyes used to scare her the most . Scare her to the point where — no matter what — she couldn’t bring herself to meet Victor Zsasz’s gaze . Like if she did, she’d be turned to stone. </p>
<p>     But after all these months . . . it felt ridiculous to ever be scared of him , or his eyes. He turned from the boogeyman with an all-knowing gaze to her brown-eyed , classily dressed knight in shining armor .</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>(mentioned) - Relationship, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma, Victor Zsasz &amp; Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Rabbit's Gotham Universe (RGU) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893088</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Her Knight in Shining Armor.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi ! I am very very late on the Gotham train, but I recently fell in love with it. Especially a select few characters! it really inspired me to start writing again. So, as one does, I set up a fairly ambitious series, centering around a group of runaway traumatized kids from Indian Hill. There's a total of six kids, ages ranging from sixteen to three. Details on each kid will be explored further in different fics, this one is just me testing the waters with my favorite hit-man. </p>
<p>Marcella , or Ella , is thirteen , and this fic is in her point of view. It's meant to sound a little garbled and childish at times, as it's her own interpretation of events happening around her, I hope it still flows right!</p>
<p>Songs that Inspired this fic:<br/>Oblivion - Grimes<br/>Buzzcut Season - Lorde<br/>Dead Weight - Jack Stauber</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time she locks eyes with the man, it’s like seeing something move in your peripheral vision late at night.<br/>
It sends shivers up your spine and you freeze out of fear, terrified to look at the source, afraid of finding something you don’t want to see. A monster from the basement , a wolf , the grim reaper . . . </p>
<p>     It was miserable that night ; the rain came pouring down , drenching her second-hand clothes and making her hair fall flat on her face. Bitterly, Marcella wished she had listened to Orion’s offer to braid her hair, or atleast to have agreed to let her older sister trim her bangs earlier that day. She was deeply regretting wanting to feel like the models in the magazines. How did they get their hair to look like that anyway… ? </p>
<p>       It was so overwhelming ; it should’ve been pitch black, that late into the night , yet the street was illuminated by multicolored lights -- the neon sign kinds, the string kinds, the yellow-y kind that came from people’s homes . . . she hadn’t seen them before in person , only through photos and screen, but now that they were all around -- it was too much. It was such a contrast to what she was used to, the muted and watered-down colors were all that she was exposed to for thirteen years of her life. The clothes, the walls, the books they were allowed to read . . . Life in Gotham was already beyond chaotic for the average person, but try being a sheltered experiment-child seeing a neon color for the first time. Or trying to make sense of the daily newspaper. Marcella quickly took to apathy to deal with it all.</p>
<p>       Montgomery, the oldest of their group, was talking to one of the men, while Orion’s arms remained wrapped around her, trying to give her some semblance of warmth and comfort after being scared by the strangers. It helped a little, but Marcella’s teeth were chattering and her jacket didn’t help much to keep her dry. Instead of facing the men clad in black , the young girl hid her face in her older sister’s sweater and squeezed her eyes shut. </p>
<p>        She felt pathetic, scared out of her mind by the men that stopped her and her siblings in the dead of night. It was only them; Eric was at the motel watching the youngest two, while they got to go out at night and pick up dinner, as well as get cheap groceries from the corner store. It was one of her first times really able to explore since their escape from Indian Hill ; it was like a dream come true — until the sudden rain, then everything crumbled from there. Marcella knew, realistically, this meant they were running out of the money they had stolen, and her older siblings were trying to give her a good time before things got stressful. </p>
<p>        Still. She’d prefer her older siblings bickering over money than being stared down by Penguin’s men. A man that could’ve passed for a soldier, standing next to the bald man, continued to speak to her older brother. The man that scared her so much remained quiet. She couldn’t tell if she imagined the glowing eyes or not.</p>
<p>      “ . . . the curfew, kid, what are you doing out here this late . . . “</p>
<p>      “ Sorry, sir, I really am, we were headed home. Went out for dinner and got caught up in the rain. “</p>
<p>      Marcella tuned out the rest, but cracking an eye open -- she watched her oldest brother’s posture dissolve from fearfully tense to mildly alert. Obviously they were broke, and even a bunch of mercenaries weren’t willing to mug three clearly struggling children. How kind of them, she’d later joke. </p>
<p>      “ Stay safe out there. You need us to walk you home? “</p>
<p>      “ No -- uh, no sir. Thank you. We’re almost there. Thank you. “</p>
<p>      Monty fumbled a bit, looking back at the two girls as if to say ‘ let’s freaking go, now! ‘. Orion definitely didn’t need to be told twice, practically pulling the youngest along to follow . She had never seen Orion this scared ; she normally masked it under a robotic, strong expression, for the sake of the others — it was so out of character that Marcella had to guess it was on purpose. As they passed, the child could practically feel the bald man’s all knowing gaze burn the back of her head.</p>
<p>      She had nightmares about him for weeks. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>      The second time she met him was worse in every way. Almost a month after their encounter in the streets, and just as Marcella was starting to look back on it ( and the man, which she and Eric dubbed The Boogeyman, ) with a sense of humor . . . He appeared in their hotel room. </p>
<p>      It was probably a crummy place to him ; a semi-small room, two beds with a mini fridge, a microwave, and a television with limited channels — but it was far, far more than anything they got at Indian Hill. It was better than the cells. The colorless walls, and the awful beds. . . Everything that place brought with it, that Marcella still couldn’t think about without getting sick. It was better to just pretend it happened to someone else, though her siblings didn’t share the same philosophy. Her life began at their escape. Everything before that was an unpleasant dream. </p>
<p>       She’d take no privacy, a tiny bathroom, and microwave meals. Gratefully. Besides, they were starting to make it their own. She, Orion, and Selene shared a bed, while Monty and Eric crashed on the other. Since Michael was still tiny, he fit just fine on the loveseat at night. Souvenirs and tokens from their adventures decorated their small area -- Mike’s stuffed lion , Orion’s necklaces and rings , Monty’s books. . . Her own Björk and Beyoncé posters held up with thumbtacks making the walls a little less bland. </p>
<p>      This was their home now, as crummy as it seemed, and the man that haunted her dreams had somehow tracked them down and broke into it. While she was babysitting. On her watch ! God, she was never going to hear the end of it. </p>
<p>      “ You six just . . . what , started existing half a year ago? Right when the Hugo Strange thing happened? What a coincidence. “</p>
<p>       His voice didn’t match his appearance , she decided. He sounded too casual, too normal. On top of that, he kept his voice low, as to not wake the two sleeping children. </p>
<p>      It was polite — like he wasn’t sitting on her brothers’ bed, staring into her soul with two easily accessible guns right there. Her own eyes stared straight at the rickety floor, vision blurry from tears. Marcella’s aware she looks pathetic again, frozen in fear and trembling in the presence of a stranger. Ten feet away , on the girl’s bed, lay her seven year old sister, next to the also peacefully-asleep toddler. </p>
<p>       ‘What do I do, how do I keep them safe?’ Is the only thing she can ask from herself. She’s always been a timid girl, and very scrawny. Obviously, she wouldn’t be duking it out with a professional criminal. He was triple her size in height and weight. She suspected before she could even try to slap the guy, he’d whip out one of the guns. </p>
<p>       Marcella opened up her mouth, to plead, to cry — didn’t matter, she didn’t really have a plan. But nothing happened. She only stared at the man’s boots ; the same kind Orion admired at a mall once. Orion was good at dressing herself, so she guessed this man was stylish. His suit looked nice too, but she wasn’t the best judge at that. </p>
<p>       After he realized she wouldn’t respond, the man continued to talk. </p>
<p>“ I went through your records, I mean. You guys. . . hm, have never gone to a hospital before, or a dentist. . .  or done anything since the days you were born. You guys amish? ”</p>
<p>      He knew too much! He knew too much, and that terrified her more than anything she had previously faced. Hugo Strange was eerie and cold, but he was practically their father. Just a very bad one. His guards, too, were always rude and dismissive. . . But they never scared her like this. The man before her seemed a bit too . . . What was the right word? Knowledgeable, maybe? Calm? Professional? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>       She knew people had files , they were given a code on the day they were born . . . But still. Why would he look into them? Surely, they had to reprimand groups of teenagers out at night before. . . They weren’t special . </p>
<p>        Monty’s voice suddenly rings in the back of her head -- He always swiped a newspaper from the front office on morning jogs, and only two days ago he read out the front page to them. Some guy named Cobblepot freaking out about Indian Hill and monsters. Started an uproar among the citizens. . .</p>
<p>      God! She needed to listen to his lectures more! </p>
<p>      Now, this guy knows! He knows! </p>
<p>      At that realization, her eyes fly up -- and finally , her gaze meets his. If only for a second, it was out of pure panic and desperation. Still, he caught it, and tilted his head. The half of a second eye contact makes her stomach drop, as if it signed her death warrant. He knew she knew, which confirms his suspicions in a way, right . . .?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>       “ My name is Victor Zsasz. Are you. . . Marcella Byrne , Orion Lewis, Or Selene Lewis? “</p>
<p>       It doesn’t scare her as much this time, him knowing their names. Makes sense, if he knows she’s never been to a hospital before. Still, her bottom lip trembles and she can barely mumble, “ Mar — Marcella. “</p>
<p>       He catches it, though, and nods. Thoughtfully, almost. </p>
<p>       “So. . . Six kids living without parental supervision in a motel. No living relatives. No traceable history. No nothing, until Post-Indian Hill. So this is either a very unfortunate coincidence, or you were a part of the breakout. “</p>
<p> </p>
<p>       She’s quiet again, unable to really come up with an explanation. If Monty were here, he’d be able to talk to the man. He was best at talking to people ; the man at the corner store gave them free food sometimes thanks to him, the motel owner let them slip on rent occasionally thanks to him. . . and that night, he was able to get them away from Penguin’s men. She wanted nothing more than to hide behind him at that moment. </p>
<p>      “ My — My, um, my brother, he’s at work, but he’ll tell you — “</p>
<p>      “ You can tell me, you can talk just fine. Promise I won’t make fun of your accent.“ </p>
<p>       Marcella’s voice caught a bit — she wasn’t aware she had an accent until then, and now she was a bit confused on top of everything. She feels even more like a kid, trying to talk herself out of trouble.</p>
<p>     “ We — we were held there, ever since we can remember, pr — promise, we aren’t . . . “</p>
<p>     “ Monsters? Yeah, I can tell. Do you know Fish Mooney? “</p>
<p>     Marcella’s eyes cast towards her siblings ; Selene shifted in her sleep, stretching out before settling back into the blankets. Eric always called their baby sister a pixie, to tease her ; but she could definitely see the resemblance. </p>
<p>    Strangely enough, the walking nightmare let out an audible ‘awww’. She sensed a bit of sarcasm, if that was the right word to use. . . ? No, you don’t use that word there . . . She remembered he asked a question, and hastily shook her head no. </p>
<p>      “ Listen. Here’s a tip. . . You all got to get better at pretending to be normal street kids. You stick out like sore thumbs. The way you talk, the way you act . . . Also, it raises flags if you tell people you’re all related. You look nothing alike, just say you ran away from an orphanage together. People will believe it more than anything else you can cook up. “</p>
<p>      That was true, and that was a rude awakening to encounter as they entered the real world. Despite not coming from the same mother or father, these were her siblings. . . Orion and Selene were the only two biologically related ; All of them belonged to different races and ethnicities. . . they had no idea what that really meant until recently — with the exception of Monty and Orion. They knew stuff about the real world, and spent their free time explaining bits and pieces to her and Eric. She never asked how they knew ; but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. Some things just better be kept a mystery. . . </p>
<p>      “ Are you here to kill us? “</p>
<p>      Marcella asked, grimacing at herself for sounding so meek. That seemed to amuse him. There's a breathy noise that sounds like a laugh. </p>
<p>      “ I’ll admit, you guys peaked my interest. Had me on a goose chase for days. Half my coworkers think I’ve gone crazy, researching some rando children. “</p>
<p>      Marcella swallows, tucking a loose strand of black hair behind her ear. As it grew out, it became harder and harder to deal with, and once again she was wishing it was all in a braid. As if to protect herself from his far too amused tone, her arms cross over her chest.</p>
<p>     “That’s -- That isn’t an answer. “</p>
<p>     “ No, it isn’t. “</p>
<p>      As soon as the man responds, it finally occurs to her that he’s screwing with her. He’s probably having a great time, tormenting a preteen girl in her own motel room. There’s a rise of frustration, and watery grey eyes finally rise off of Victor Zsasz’s shoes. It’s a funny emotion that she doesn’t experience a lot ; but when she feels it , it makes her stomach turn and fear melts away. She supposed anger was a more productive emotion than fear.</p>
<p>     It takes her a second or two, but then she finds the courage and meets the all-knowing look. He must notice her rising frustration, because there’s a spark of mischief in his dark eyes. If she were braver, she would hit him for it. Or at least try.</p>
<p>     “ You’re not going to hurt us. “ She can’t tell if it’s a question or a statement. Perhaps even a demand.</p>
<p>     “ No, I won’t. “</p>
<p>      He stands, then, and Marcella is reminded how short she is even by her age’s standards. Victor Zsasz was a giant. He peers around the room, seemingly taking in the details of their room before he steps towards the door. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “ Goodnight , Marcella. Ask your siblings about getting a gun, or atleast a baseball bat. “</p>
<p>      It’s an odd piece of advice ( if you could call it that, it sort of sounded like an order . . . ) but it somehow lightens the pressure in her chest. It’s a goodbye, a friendly one at that. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>       After that, every two weeks there would be a small package delivered to them by a strange woman dressed in all black. And every time, there would be several hundred dollars in cash, along with a simple note card signed, </p>
<p>                      ‘ --   Z. ‘</p>
<p>        The woman never said much. Asked how she and her siblings were, if they needed anything. She stopped having nightmares about Victor Zsasz after that. Instead , she started looking for him . Grocery trips , walks to the park , runs to the convenience stores . . . every time , she found herself scanning the area for the all-knowing gaze. She asks Monty for a baseball bat, and gets one three days after that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>      The next time she encountered Victor Zsasz in person was far from their hotel room, a couple of months later. </p>
<p>       Orion had made friends with a girl named Selina Kyle, leading to a trip to the Siren’s Club frequently. Marcella wasn’t going to ask questions on how that happened. Probably the same reason Orion came home with insane wads of cash some nights. Eric said she was a bank robber now as a joke, but she guessed he wasn’t too far off. Just not hitting banks (yet). No one was mad at it, not even Monty and his moral compass-y self. As long as she stayed safe, he said. . .</p>
<p>       It was overwhelming on that side of Gotham. Going to the Siren’s Club was Marcella’s first trip to that side of luxury, and it was in its own little glamorous bubble. At first, it seemed like a dream, like she was a narrator of a book describing some fantastical world. In a nostalgic sense, it took her back to the PlayRoom back at Indian Hill, just her and the books she’d spend hours pouring over. Only now, she was physically there, in a dazzling and confusing world.</p>
<p>      She had decided, very quickly in fact, that Tabitha was the coolest woman Marcella had ever met. Barbara was intimidating and definitely looney-tunes, but her outfits were to die for. And Selina was Selina. No more explanation necessary. Marcella undoubtedly wanted all of them to like her, but for now she was dubbed ‘Orion’s little sister.’ Not the worst thing to be called, she supposed . . . </p>
<p> </p>
<p>      After Orion agreed to take her to the club, she had to safety-pin her dress under her arms to get it to fit her better, and then throw a light black jacket over that. She looked girlish, definitely, but she was uncomfortable in anything else her older sister recommended. It was a dark green color that had subtle glittery-flower designs. . . nothing eye-catching, but she didn’t feel too underdressed there. Orion, however, fit in perfectly into the scene, in a form-fitting navy blue velvet dress, and sparkly heels. She already looked like an adult, just like the girls in the magazines. Marcella was proud of her ; she was able to emerge as an individual fast after their escape, already making friends and turning heads when she walked into a room. She just hoped she could be as pretty as her one day.</p>
<p>       Orion was kind enough to let her borrow mascara and lipgloss for the night, and her thick black hair was in one long braid, even though the shorter hair around her face was too stubborn to conform to the braid. It wasn’t down often anymore.</p>
<p>      She felt pretty damn cool, even if she was very underage in a nightclub. No one seemed to care, though. She guessed pre-teens in these environments weren’t necessarily uncommon here? In the movies, it’s all adults. . .</p>
<p>      The woman behind the bar was kind enough to keep making her virgin sunsets while she daydreamed and hummed along to the music, knowing that Orion was probably too busy to keep her company. She wasn’t upset; she was actually quite happy to just pretend like she was a mysterious socialite woman and piece together a story along with the music. Plus watching men fight over the weird redhead girl was great entertainment. It was like the soap operas Eric enjoyed. </p>
<p>     Though , her peace was disturbed not long after by a man in a dark blue suit taking the seat next to her. Now, she had been to the club enough times at that point to know the unspoken social rules. You usually sit two to three seats away from someone, unless you intend to strike up a conversation. And not many people were sitting ; most were dancing. So it’s not like the man was out of options. </p>
<p>      At that realization, the hair on her arms and on the back of her neck stood up, and she tried to look for her older sister covertly. No luck. Probably in Barbara’s office. She knows she shouldn’t freak herself out — but stranger danger, right? Orion always told her to trust her gut when it came to men.</p>
<p>    ´ If your stomach tells you he’s bad, he’s bad. Always listen to your subconscious, inner Marcella knows more than outer Marcella. ‘</p>
<p>      “ It’s a pretty song, isn’t it? “ </p>
<p>       He asks , and it’s almost a punch to the gut . Her eyes cast around the area to make sure he was speaking to her — and , unfortunately, he was. Bartender was busy , other people were busy with their own conversations. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>        She can’t for the life of her find a wholesome reason why he would want to have a conversation with a child at a bar. </p>
<p>      Call her paranoid, but she was already calculating her probability of survival in her head. Her only experienced with people other than her siblings were limited ; she hadn’t made any friends since they’ve gotten here, but that was probably due to not being enrolled in a school yet.</p>
<p>           “ Uh, yeah. It is. “ </p>
<p>       It was a pretty song. Amor Prohibido by Selena. One of Monty’s favorites, the big sap. Can’t even speak spanish. She keeps her eyes focused on her virgin sunset, turning the straw to slowly mix the colors together.</p>
<p>        “ Where are your parents? “ </p>
<p>      Great question. Personally , Marcella didn’t know. The only real figure they had was Strange , and the papers said the GCPD had him. She had a last name , so she must’ve gotten it somewhere. Byrne . . . It was another question Marcella didn’t really care to explore. What would even happen if she did find her parents ? Ask to move in ? No, it was better to just assume they were dead. Hugo Strange was her father, just a shit one. She was raised by her only slightly-older siblings, and occasionally some behavioral experts. But there was no way in hell she was telling a strange man in a bar that story. </p>
<p>      God, why does it feel like she’s being watched? Not just by the brunette dude next to her ?</p>
<p>     “ Here. “ </p>
<p>     Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. Her older sister was here , and that was close enough right? </p>
<p>     “ Are they? Why would they leave you alone? “ </p>
<p>      Okay, yeah. It feels like a pair of eyes were burning into the back of her head. Reading into her soul . . .</p>
<p>      It bothers her why he’s asking questions. People are supposed to keep to themselves, right? She preferred it that way.</p>
<p>           “ They’re working. “ </p>
<p>     It came off a bit snappy , and her voice cracks at the last syllable — Stormy grey eyes fly up, impatience and fear fueling whatever reaction that was. His thick eyebrows pressing together , yet corners of his mouth turning upwards. It’s hard to read, but very unsettling.</p>
<p>        His mouth opens, but is interrupted by a new voice. Calm, and low. . . Almost humorous . . . </p>
<p>        “ What did i tell you about the drinks ? What is this, your fourth ? I said you could have one. Wait until your mother hears about this. “</p>
<p>    Victor Zsasz approaches, hands clasped behind his back and face looking all too unreadable. His tone is playful again, like he’s teasing her while shoo-ing a creep away. The man who broke into her home and has been sending her money for three months. . . is also apparently saving her. It's almost laughable and leaves her sputtering over her words, but that seems to work in her favor. Looking like a child getting caught in the act. Again.</p>
<p>     The man gets up — either embarrassed to have been getting caught, or just unwilling to pick a fight with a very intimidating man who openly carries in a club. Probably both. He definitely doesn't look the type to be able to take on Victor Zsasz. Her eyes watch him as he slinks off, an imaginary weight being lifted off of her shoulders.</p>
<p>     “ What are you doing here? “ </p>
<p>     She asks as soon as the man is out of earshot, looking around for the girls associated with Zsasz. They never give her a chance to ask for their names . . . He seems to be on his own, unfortunately, and Marcella wonders if she’ll ever get to know their names. They’re always kind to her, it only seems fair that she know their names. </p>
<p>     “Could ask the same from you, kid, you and your siblings seem to be everywhere these days.” </p>
<p>     Her first thought goes to Orion and her mysterious night escapades, but that didn’t make much sense. Orion wasn’t the curious cat of the family, that trait definitely fell on Montgomery’s plate. Was he poking around in that stuff too, without telling anyone? </p>
<p>     Her eyes fall down to her half-finished drink, still messing with her straw in an attempt to distract herself. </p>
<p>     “I’m sorry if they’re giving you any trouble. I had no idea they’re getting involved with that business.” </p>
<p>     “Well, i think you do, considering you’re sitting here. In my boss’ enemy’s club. ” </p>
<p>     “Huh? I thought . . . Tabitha and Barbara worked for the Penguin?” </p>
<p>     In all honesty, Marcella hadn’t tapped too deeply into the gang wars of Gotham. She mostly just waited for Eric to explain it to her. He had an appreciation for the drama that played out in this city, and relayed it in a far more entertaining way than the papers described. </p>
<p>     “ Not anymore. “ </p>
<p>     “ Because . . . of the guy in the green suit? His chief of staff? They broke up or something, right? “ </p>
<p>     “ Something like that. Wasn’t really listening. “ </p>
<p>      “So . . . is that why you’re here? To kill Tabitha and Barbara?” </p>
<p>              “No.” </p>
<p>       There seemed to be more there, and normally Marcella would back down at that point . Confrontation wasn’t her thing , but the way his jaw ticked seemed peculiar. Like he really needed to talk about it. </p>
<p>      Listening to the other’s problems tended to fall on her shoulders quite a bit ; Montgomery complaining about his boss , about the world , about Orion — and vise versa, of course, though Orion didn’t have a boss to complain about. Eric confides in her about his insecurities and what he sees from the shadows — Even Selene , talking about her nightmares and fears. She listened to everyone, why should it be any different with Victor Zsasz? The man who has secured their room and stocked their minifridge for weeks? The man who paid for her dress?</p>
<p>      “Why?” </p>
<p>     It’s an easy question, and she has to admit there is a growing sense of curiosity for this situation , even if she’s tried to ignore the emotion her entire life. Apathy wasn’t applicable here, Marcella had gotten too involved.</p>
<p>         “Because my boss is dead, apparently.” </p>
<p>     Ms. Peabody’s voice rings in the back of her head ; ‘Curiosity killed the cat, Marcella. Don’t go sticking your head into things that don’t concern you.’ It was a good lesson , one she had taken seriously thus far into her life. </p>
<p>        “Oh. I’m sorry.” </p>
<p>     He doesn’t seem particularly beat up about it, but Marcella still feels compelled to send her condolences, even if they’re awkward and clumsy. At that, he takes the creep’s seat, and orders a Manhattan. He seems pretty sorry too, but done talking. Marcella accepts that. Orion doesn’t like to talk about what’s making her sad too much either.</p>
<p>     “I hope you get a new job.” She tells him, and there’s that laugh again.</p>
<p>      He gets her another virgin sunrise, and lets her sip his drink. It’s disgusting, but she leaves that night thinking she made a good friend. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>     Marcella doesn’t see him for another three months , though the packages from the Zsaszettes keep coming on time. With that help, Orion’s growing income ( if you could call it that ), and Monty’s raise; they were able to safely upgrade to renting out a two-bedroom apartment in a cozy, rather unbothered building, out of the rougher area they had previously made into their home. They had moved on up , into a decent place. It sounded surreal to her, moving up from nothing to a cozy place in less than a year. </p>
<p>    Life then was starting to look too good. It was the beginning of summer, her birthday had just passed — she was at the Siren’s Club practically four times a week, had her own space, even if she had to share a bed with Serene, and bunked with Orion ; it was significantly better now with a Girls Only room, and the guys staying across the hall. She loved her brothers, but boy -- did guys smell. </p>
<p>    So she really should’ve expected it when she got kidnapped. The universe was typical in that way — when life seemed too good to be true, it usually was. </p>
<p>     It happened late into the night ; Marcella had gotten too comfortable at the Siren’s Club, deciding to ditch her spot at the bar to go downstairs for ice cream. She had enough change to get a cone with two scoops — and was looking forward to it, thanks very much. Orion wouldn’t take too much longer, but she wanted to feel independent. A foolish want, really, but she realized that far too late. </p>
<p>    It was cold, dark . . . She was almost there, to the little mom-and-pop ice cream shop— greeted with the neon signs she had started to appreciate so much, when a hand wrapped around her mouth, a rag pressed into her face smelling strongly of chemicals.<br/>
Last thing she could remember was someone grabbing her , picking her up like a bag of potatoes, and the chime of the store’s doors opening. She blacked out after that, presumably from whatever she was unwillingly breathing in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>      Regaining consciousness, she was greeted with the smell of metal ( or blood . . . ? ) and the feeling of bone-chilling cold. Her eyes were covered with a cloth of some sort, and fear is ruining every chance for proper judgement. She guessed she was in a freezer , Orion told her the mafia took people to the giant meat-freezers all the time. The quiet hum of machinery supported this theory.</p>
<p>      Marcella tried to speak, to tell them she’d have absolutely no use for the mafia, that her family was still really broke despite moving out of the motel — when she realized her mouth was covered as well. Her attempt to call for help was muffled. </p>
<p>       Oh. She was absolutely monumentally and irreversibly screwed. </p>
<p>      Panic clouded any coherent thought after that , everything seemingly circling back to ‘ holy shit , holy shit , i’m too young to die! holy shit! ‘ and ‘ i’m really going to die for a couple of scoops of icecream? Really ? ‘</p>
<p>       She knew people were speaking , but their voices were distant enough to the point where they blurred together, sounding like meaningless background music. It reminded her of the club, where a hundred different conversations were going on at once and none of it made any sense. Perhaps it was her mind playing tricks on her, but she could faintly make out a ‘Zsasz’ and a ‘Strange’ here or there . . . </p>
<p>        Oddly enough, they left her alone, letting her pull at her restraints and make muffled cries for help. She tried to jump, to make her chair fall over or something . . . but it was bolted to the floor. So she sat. In the movies, people were usually beat or something at this point, right? And how long had she been there? Orion was probably well past done with work, frantically looking around for her and calling home. </p>
<p>    She wondered what her brothers were thinking. </p>
<p>    Not like she had much experience to make a good conclusion, but from the sounds of it, her kidnapping was because of her affiliation with Victor. Marcella couldn’t imagine how people knew about Zsasz’s visits, but gossip was a major role in Gotham’s underworld. With Orion quickly climbing the ranks, and Monty doing lord knows what at night, along with their mysterious past, she guessed they were thrown into the mess as well, regardless of their wishes.</p>
<p>    Well, it’s not like she was getting into college anyways. Might as well become a crime lord. She just felt awful for the younger three ; if she was taken hostage , surely they were at risk too ?</p>
<p>    Footsteps drawing closer to her snapped her out of her thoughts ; and a rough hand yanked down the fabric covering her mouth. Almost instantly, she could almost taste the metallic smell in the air, confirming her thoughts from earlier. Definitely stronger than metal. Definitely blood. </p>
<p>            She thought she’d be a blubbering mess at this point, but strangely enough she wasn’t even choked up. Despite it all, Marcella was a little proud of herself. No tears, only shaking like a leaf and rendered speechless. </p>
<p>    Perhaps it was shock, but maybe the next time her life is threatened, she’ll leave the experience with her dignity completely intact. </p>
<p>    “ Where is he  ?  We need an address . “</p>
<p>    Her first instinct is to beg for her freedom ; With both Strange and Zsasz being mentioned,  Marcella genuinely had no clue how to answer the question without angering the captor. He sounded dangerous , voice deep and gravelly. . . nothing recognizable. She also had no clue how to answer either question. Strange was in some cell lord-knows-where, and she hadn’t given much thought to wherever Zsasz lived. He just. . . appeared in places. She can’t imagine him living in a house, much less acting like a person. Who the hell did either of them piss off enough to do this? Kidnap a girl that didn’t even see them on a regular basis?</p>
<p>    She would’ve sold out Strange if it guaranteed her safety in a heartbeat, no doubt about it, but Zsasz. . . ? No. He was her friend. </p>
<p>     “ I don’t -- I have no clue, I have no clue. . . I don't know who you’re talking about . . . “</p>
<p>    Her words are garbled and high-pitched, hopefully conveying sincerity to her kidnappers. She doesn’t get a response before a slam of metal against metal several feet away starts a rise of commotion among the people holding her there. Three, no -- four men?<br/>
As their shouts become louder and more concerned, there’s a loud bang . . .</p>
<p>                     Gunfire — !</p>
<p>    It rings around the room, making her let out an involuntarily scream of shock and her hearing ache. Back and forth, back and forth nonstop for what felt like forever; And all she could do was sit there and pray to god nothing hit her. Four shots echoed closer to her , one on the other side , further away. . . odds weren’t great, she thought, if only one person was there.</p>
<p>         . . .   until the sounds around her dwindled down. Four turned into three, three to two. . . then, finally, the last one gave out. The metallic smell seemed to only get worse, and she never wanted to open her eyes. If she kept her blindfold on, she could pretend she was home. Having a bad dream.</p>
<p>     Foot steps approached as her hearing rang and her breath came out labored and pained. Painfully chaotic sounds had turned into eerie silence like the flick of a switch, and it was taking her quite a bit to register. The men around her, her captors, had lost. Were most definitely dead. The person approaching won, four against one.</p>
<p>     Finally, she began to cry. So much for being strong, but that want was before she listened to four men be murdered. </p>
<p>     A hand was tugging up at her blindfold, far more gentle than the man who had pulled the gag away from her mouth. He pulled it back like a headband, and The first sight she was greeted with were . . . </p>
<p>      The Doc Martins, the ones Orion admired at the mall all those months ago, the same ones Victor Zsasz wore. </p>
<p>      Theres a sob of relief that escapes her mouth, looking up at the boogeyman that saved her life. Of course he did -- Of course! Because it was Victor Zsasz. Homicidal Maniac of the highest professional degree. . . Saving a clueless kid from Indian Hill. For no clear beneficial reason. It made no sense.</p>
<p>     It made no goddamn sense, yet the pure joy she felt as the hitman untied her from her restraints and told her not to look at the scene around her . . . </p>
<p>     It must be how the princesses in the stories felt, right ? As they’re rescued by the valiant knights in shining armor?</p>
<p>     She was still sobbing when he picked her up from the chair and carried her out of the meat locker, keeping her eyes squeezed shut as to avoid looking at the atrocities her knight in shining armor just committed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>      It took her two hours to fully calm down ; sniffling in the passenger's seat as he drove her far, far away from that entire day. He didn’t talk much. They must have taken her far out of the city, because soon they’re driving through the forest. Somewhere Marcella had never been before. Judging by the sun, it was after noon ; which meant she was gone for a really long time. It was daunting , honestly, the first time she stepped outside of the city was not of her free will, and the peaceful surroundings were so different from the horror she had just been rescued from. </p>
<p>      The trees reached high into the sky and green poured as far as the eye could see. It was just as the books back at Indian Hill promised, only a thousand times better. It’s comforting, and maybe Victor knew that. </p>
<p>       “ Is this your first time out of the city? “</p>
<p>       He asks, eyes glancing at her and then back on the road. Marcella nods as a response, using the back of her sleeve to wipe snot from her nose. </p>
<p>      He doesn’t tease her for it. She’s thankful. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>     Their peace doesn’t last forever, though, because he’s glancing at her again with an unreadable expression. He sounds serious, for once, and she really wishes she could crawl under the covers back home and forget this day ever happened. She wishes it was all one big bad dream, and Orion would wake her up any minute. Maybe tease her for falling asleep in the car or something.</p>
<p>      Although it had only been half a day at the very most ; Marcella hadn’t been away from her siblings for this long before either. So many firsts. If only they were under better circumstances. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “ You understand they did this because of me, right ? I bet it was fuckin’ Gilzean, payback for Nygma’s bullshit. . . “</p>
<p>     She didn’t know what he was talking about, so she didn’t say anything.</p>
<p>     “ I shouldn’t have been so reckless, having my girls deliver your packages. I was only endangering you and your family, and I’m sorry. I’ll relocate you, set you up in a good school. “</p>
<p>     “ Your packages got us -- They helped us a lot. I should’ve . . . Thank you. I should’ve thanked you. At the bar. “</p>
<p>    “ No need. I got you kidnapped, and I think . . . “ His hands hit the steering wheel, definitely lacking the words, but Marcella got the hint just fine. Victor was trying to say goodbye, to cut her off. He just didn’t know how to say it in a nice way.</p>
<p>     “ But they -- they mentioned Strange too, I don’t think it was about you. “</p>
<p>    He shook his head, bringing one hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose in thought. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “ No, it was personal. Someone called and gave me your location. “</p>
<p>    “ Who? “</p>
<p>    “ Hell if I know, Ella! Shit! “</p>
<p>      He snaps, making the girl jump in the next seat. He wasn’t an easily angered man, but he seemed far more emotional than usual. It was very unusual for him, and obviously Marcella hadn’t seen this side of him before. She didn’t quite understand why this was so upsetting to him. Didn’t he have fun committing murder?</p>
<p>     “ I’m sorry, “ He sounded genuine, but was still clearly fuming. His eyes kept checking his watch for a second before going back to the road. “ The hell were you doing out at night anyways? Without your siblings? “</p>
<p>     “I just thought I could handle it — “</p>
<p>     “ How ? You can’t fight, you don’t carry a gun, how would you handle yourself? “</p>
<p>    “ I didn’t think anything would happen! “ </p>
<p>    “ Something always happens, Marcella! Always! Always assume something is going to happen, never, ever let your guard down. Do you hear me ? “</p>
<p>    His voice hadn’t wavered once, eye twitching as he nearly yelled at her. It was confusing as all hell — They turned the corner, but the forest still spilled over for miles and miles. Marcella was surprising herself -- she was already so emotional, but she didn’t feel herself crack at Victor raising his voice. She could’ve easily curled into a ball and started bawling again, yet she stared at the other with a sort of newfound strength. Standing her ground.</p>
<p>     “ Yeah ? How does that go for you, huh ? You obviously don’t even sleep! “</p>
<p>   Clearly, he wasn’t expecting a rebuttal, brows pressing together in what can only be described as a ‘ did she really just say that? ‘ look. It was a shallow dig on her part , but she’s proud of herself again. </p>
<p>     “ What kind of idiot goes out alone , at night , in Gotham ? Especially the way that you are ? “</p>
<p>     “ The way that I am ? The hell does that mean ? ” </p>
<p>             Excuse her language.</p>
<p>     “ You’re a kid, Ella! A small one at that, plus the whole Disney Princess thing you got going on -- Seriously, you’re the easiest target there is! How are you not dead yet? “</p>
<p>     She let out a scoff, turning away from him to glare out the window. Marcella was fully aware she was pouting rather childishly, but honestly -- she just didn’t know how to argue back to that. She was alive because of him and .  .  . pure luck. He had to know that. </p>
<p>      She could feel him glancing at her every few seconds, both falling into an uncomfortable silence as buildings slowly started coming into view. The girl stewed in her anger , watching the new sights pass by. Homes, Diners, Gift shops. . .  They stopped twice, for gas and for a drive thru. </p>
<p>      He got her food without her having to ask, and after that it was a little hard to stay mad at him. Even if he was a massive jerk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     “ How’d you even know I was gone? “ She asked with a mouthful of fries, not even bothering to fake manners. He didn’t either, driving with a burger in one hand. He dropped a bunch of lettuce and had dug the pickles out, tossing them out of the window.</p>
<p>     “Your sister. I came by for Tabitha and the kid that thinks she’s a cat, your sister was flipping out. I went digging around. Then I got a call. “ </p>
<p>      “ So. . . I should expect them to try again? This is a bigger thing? Do you think Strange talked? “</p>
<p>      “ Probably. Doubt the crew in there was the last of them. “</p>
<p>     The food was suddenly a bit hard to swallow, forcing it down as she remembered the four bodies in a meat locker. Despite them holding her hostage, she couldn’t help but feel empathy. They were just doing their jobs, and they could’ve been much worse . . . </p>
<p>     He seemed to read her mind, setting down his burger to steal a few of her fries. Their eyes locked again, and it took her back to the first time they met. Only for a split second. His eyes used to scare her the most . Scare her to the point where — no matter what — she couldn’t bring herself to meet Victor Zsasz’s gaze . Like if she did, she’d be turned to stone. </p>
<p>     But after all these months . . . it felt ridiculous to ever be scared of him , or his eyes. He turned from the boogeyman with an all-knowing gaze to her brown-eyed , classily dressed knight in shining armor .</p>
<p>      “ Listen. Especially with who you’re associated with, “ She couldn’t tell if that meant him, or her siblings, but she hoped it meant him. That meant he wouldn’t ditch her after this, right? “ You’re going to see death. I’ll try my best to keep you away from it, but that city. . . “</p>
<p>     He gives a shake of his head, but Marcella understands. </p>
<p>     “ Okay. You said I’m a Disney Princess type, right? And that makes me an easy mark?”</p>
<p>     “ That’s what I said. “</p>
<p>     “ Then. . . Could you teach me how to be. . . less of a damsel in distress? “</p>
<p>     She bites into a chicken nugget, looking at him expectantly. She knows she’s asking for a lot, Victor’s surely a busy man, but . . . if he did this, he might save himself from another one of these experiences. </p>
<p>     “ Like what? Fighting, shooting, general crime? “</p>
<p>     “ Sure. I don’t plan on being the next Falcone or whatever, but preventing today from ever happening again would be nice. “</p>
<p>     He ponders it for a moment, taking a bite of his meal while studying the road ahead of him. </p>
<p>    “ Yeah. Alright. But you have to listen. And stop getting yourself in shitty situations. “</p>
<p>    “ Can’t promise it, but I’ll try. “</p>
<p>    “ Eh , that’s good enough. “</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading! This was purely for my own wish fulfillment, i don't expect it'll get a whole lot of attention, but please give me any feedback ( or just comments in general , they make me happy haha )  and I hope to get working on the next piece of the puzzle soon!! sorry if there are format issues , im wrapping this up late at night and got MAJORLY LAZY LOOOL</p></blockquote></div></div>
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